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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052053">lost divinity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid'>carrionkid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bloodborne AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Bloodborne, Character Study, Gen, Inspired by Bloodborne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:00:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>here's some of matt's character exposition for our bloodborne au</p><p>--</p><p>He used to be very special indeed. It is not often that one can say they've spoken to their Gods, and it is rarer yet to be able to say that those Gods have spoken back. He's never seen their faces, never looked upon them, but perhaps, that was why he was chosen for such an honor.</p><p>He can still hear them now, the faint echoes of his beloved divinities, rattling around inside of his head. Which is exactly why he has to die.</p><p>It wasn't an easy conclusion to come to. It doesn't fit any of the criteria for martyrdom presented by the Church. However, the Church isn't what he once thought it was.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bloodborne AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lost divinity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/eazlby/gifts">eazlby</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He used to be very special indeed. It is not often that one can say they've spoken to their Gods, and it is rarer yet to be able to say that those Gods have spoken back. He's never seen their faces, never looked upon them, but perhaps, that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was chosen for such an honor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can still hear them now, the faint echoes of his beloved divinities, rattling around inside of his head. Which is exactly why he has to die.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't an easy conclusion to come to. It doesn't fit any of the criteria for martyrdom presented by the Church. However, the Church isn't what he once thought it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dedicated his life to the Church, little more than a child, having just lost his father and having no mother to mourn with. He was taken in, raised in the ranks and welcomed with open arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His father had heard tell of the Good Blood, of it's miraculous nature, and against Matthew's wishes, had taken them both on a pilgrimage to Yharnham. He should've done more to convince his father that he was content being sightless, that it wasn't something he felt compelled to </span>
  <em>
    <span>change</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps then, his father wouldn't have fallen to the beasts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Since then, Matthew had spent years administering the Blood to those in need. Children, the sickly, the poor, the hungry, the lost. They were eternally grateful, overjoyed at the benevolence of the Church, giving such miraculous treatments without any expected retribution. He felt such pride in his heart, such importance as a healer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was merely four years ago when one of the clergy realized he had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>gift.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A second sight, of sorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he had joined the Choir.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caryll's runes had felt so natural underneath his fingertips, as if he'd been waiting his whole life to become acquainted with them. He was a natural, they had said, he could do such </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful </span>
  </em>
  <span>work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that's when he began to speak to the Great Ones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He understood them, in their speech without words. He felt it in his bones, he could see their runes in his mind's eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does not know if beings such as them </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>care, but he hopes they cared for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They told him many, many things. He carved their runes in stone panels, moving as though he were a man possessed. They never lied to him. Not once during his years of service.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still remembers Ebrietas' last message to him;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Our Blood. Healing. A Price. Transformation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carved plain as day in the panel before him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He understood the message in an instant. The beasts are the other side of the coin, the payment for the Good Blood, harvested from the divinity he's carried with him for the past four years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to die. There isn't any other option. He's already been tainted, he has the beastly affliction within him, lying in wait until the time is right to glut itself on blood and bone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It has been weeks since he left the Church and he fears being found almost as much as he fears the uncertainty of the days to follow. He's certain that someone will come for him; he broke their deepest vows and betrayed their trust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guilt of his actions threatens to rend his heart in two, but he had no other option. Vows or not, promises or not, the Church of Healing was never what he thought it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, he simply must attempt to set things right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There has been talk of a Crow flitting between the townships and kingdoms, ruthless and unwavering, with hair as dark as midnight that reaches to her feet. He trusts only her to do what needs to be done. It isn't possible to find someone within the Church, not after turning his back on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truth of the matter is that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. He knew her before he ever heard the whisperings of the Great Ones in his head, before he ever knew what kind of harm he was doing. He knows her even now, from description alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once, she was the daughter of nobility.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"It will give my father the wrong idea if you are to watch me all day."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn't," </span>
  <em>
    <span>he speaks truthfully, although drawn to her, he cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>see </span>
  <em>
    <span>her, "And you slipped away from your guards to find me, anyway."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Ah, yes, but who will they blame if we are found together?" She laughs, the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Perhaps you don't know how things work here. I'm </span>
  </em>
  <span>respected, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I heal those in need, I carry out my sacred oaths."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You are nothing more than a pretty face, my darling. I come from a family older than your precious Church."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The insult stings and he would defend the Church's honor were he not so awestruck by her presence.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Find me," she whispers, "I will wait for you this evening."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had spent weeks together as lovers, meeting under the cover of moonlight. He knew her more completely than anyone else, and he's never known anyone quite like her since.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She left suddenly. He had come to find her one evening just shy of a month after meeting her, but her quarters were bare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later on, he'd learned that her father was killed, but no one he spoke to offered many details. They simply assured him he had more concerning matters to attend to. Now, knowing what he does, he doubts that they were being entirely truthful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, if she were dead, he'd </span>
  <em>
    <span>know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He'd feel it. He has a knack for these things; it's part of what brought him such status in the Choir. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That's why he knows it's her, roaming the streets, the forests, in search of rogue Hunters. Even though he's never heard her name used, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She hasn't been seen lately, but he still hears mentions of her. The dreaded Crow, the merciless Hunter of Hunters, rivaled only by the revered and feared, Eileen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'll find her, and then she'll entreat him with the kindness of death, killing him before he has the chance to do any more harm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's communed with the Great Ones and he's grown dependent on the Blood, still needing it even while rationing it as he has nowadays. It's only a matter of time before he ends up with </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood on his hands. The affliction took root within his heart the day he joined the Church.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he can do is hope he'll be able to excise some of the infection. It's tireless work hunting beasts, but the movements are almost familiar by now. He can dodge, he can parry, he can kill them in mere seconds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's known how to fight since before he joined the Choir and he favors weapons over summonations and divine invocations anyway. It helps that his cane functions as a trick weapon; it's well made, balanced ever so carefully and fits perfectly in his hand whether it's a cane or a whip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cane was one of the few things he took from the Church when he left. The other being the clothes on his back, and by now, they're torn and stained beyond recognition. He has not had much opportunity to clean them since leaving and he's been a very busy man in the past weeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's because his time is limited. It will likely not be long before he finds her, before she </span>
  <em>
    <span>kills </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, so sweetly, his deliverer. So, he has much work to do before his time runs out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The beasts are just the beginning. As soon as he has faded from the clergy’s mind as the Choir member that fled the Church, he'll turn his weapon on the lot of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They're just as bad as the beasts, walking around in human skin, pretending to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>devout, </span>
  </em>
  <span>pretending to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>caring</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pretending they can do any good in this wretched world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matthew knows how they </span>
  <em>
    <span>operate, </span>
  </em>
  <span>which makes it all the easier to know how to make them fall to pieces. They would never dream of one of their own gutting them with ease. He'll lay them bare for the whole world to see. And once everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he'll lay down his life and hope it was enough to absolve him of his days spent in the clutches of their web.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps, if he's lucky and the Gods are smiling down on him, he'll awaken in a better world.</span>
</p>
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